


Some say the world will end in fire

by silvergreyleaf



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gwaith-i-Mírdain, M/M, Moria | Khazad-dûm, Ost-in-Edhil, Second Age, Uncreative names for OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-11 21:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergreyleaf/pseuds/silvergreyleaf
Summary: Annatar shows up in Ost-in-Edhil to have a chat.





	1. First Encounter (or: Pride will have a fall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annatar shows up in Ost-in-Edhil to have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Gwaith-i-Mírdain = People of the Jewel Smiths, brotherhood of elven craftsmen in Eregion  
2) Car-i-Mírdain = House of the Jewel Smiths (Sindarin), headquarters of the jewel smiths  
3) Tano = smith (Sindarin), male OC  
4) Maenas = skill (Sindarin), female OC

It could have been a day as any other. Celebrimbor awoke early as usual, long before the morning sun would dance upon the crystal copula of the halls of the Lord and Lady of Eregion. The streets are still covered in dim twilight as he makes his way to the Car-i-Mírdain , humming a tune that he must have picked up from Narvi as he enters the empty forges and rekindles the glowing embers.

He had worked late yesterday, kept awake by the feeling that he was soon going to reach a break-through that would finally allow him to channel energy into precious metals much as his grandfather had caught light in crystal stone. One by one his companions had left, to bed, to drink or to other trivial pursuits that he couldn’t care less about. He does not blame them. They are talented craftsmen, creative and ambitious, yet lacking this fiery desire to achieve that can bar any other thought from his mind. He does not care. After all, he enjoys nothing quite as much as having the forges to himself. Just his thoughts and visions that are slowly wrought into artefacts of great beauty and even greater power.

While he is firing up the hearth and the red light starts filling the empty halls, he cannot quite keep his usually calm and steady hands from trembling. This is what he has been working for ever since he started forging. This could prove to be what will set his name right aside that of his grandfather. He focusses his attention on the gold that is slowly melting in the red flames. It is too early to jump to any conclusions. How often had he thought in the past that he finally enmeshed spirit and metal, only to fail in the last instance? Celebrimbor takes a deep breath, steadies his hands and commences the day’s work.

Slowly the forge fills up with chatter, the clinking of hammers on metal and the rush of scoring flame. The other smiths greet Celebrimbor calmly and respectfully but know well enough to keep their distance when their leader bears this absent and determined expression. His sudden bursts of outrage are near as famous as the work of his hands. Therefore, a sudden tension spreads throughout the room as Tano, one of the chief members of the Gwaith, approaches his master at unawares. Celebrimbor’s hand seizes to move abruptly and in mid-air and in the following silence one could hear a needle drop.

“Milord.”, Tano says respectfully and with a firm voice that becomes increasingly hard to sustain as Celebrimbor turns slowly and grimly to face him.  
“I know not to interrupt you, sire.” “Do you now?”, Celebrimbor interjects himself, fingers tapping impatiently on the anvil. Tano lowers his gaze.  
“All due apologies. But there is a young man on the steps outside. He refuses to leave, and he insists to have a word with you.” Celebrimbor shrugs his shoulders.  
“What’s it to me? If I were to speak to everybody who wishes it, I would never get to shut my mouth again.”  
“I have told him of, but he will not leave the doorstep.” Celebrimbor snorts, then turns back to his work.  
“What do we have guards for after all?” Tano bows his head and steps away and Celebrimbor shoots an angry look through the forge.  
“Don’t you have work to do?” Shaking his head, he himself resumes his work on a silver coronet, all the while imagining how it would frame the golden tresses of its future bearer.

The second interruption he doesn’t take quite so graciously. “What is it now?”, he demands in a dangerously low tone of voice as Tano walks up to him again.  
“Sire, he is still there.”  
“Haven’t I told you to have the guards take care of him?”  
“They tried. He disabled them and sends his severe apologies for any damage he might have done.” Incredulously, Celebrimbor cocks an eyebrow.  
“You mean to tell me, that he single-handedly took out several members of the city-guard?”  
“Five of them, sire. Shall I fetch more?”  
“Useless lot.”, Celebrimbor mutters under his breath, before turning back to Tano. “You should have known better than relying on so few of them. Send for more! I will not allow any further disturbance!” Bristling with annoyance he faces the coronet once more, noticing with anger a misplaced gem. Was it too much to ask to have a morning in peace?  
Some of the other smiths abandon their work place, presumably to get a fine look of that spinster outside. Celebrimbor rolls his eyes. Do they have nothing better to worry themselves with?

“Sire?” “What?” Celebrimbor jerks around, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glistening.  
“He has taken out another seven guards and persuaded the others to leave him be.”  
“What?”, Celebrimbor repeats, though this time rather taken aback than furious. “He has taken out …”  
“I heard you, Tano. What do you mean, persuaded?”  
“He talked to them, laid out his request, sire. They do no longer wish to attack him.” “Do they not?”, Celebrimbor retorts sharply.  
“He still wishes to speak to you.” Tano takes a few precautionary steps backwards as Celebrimbor closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.  
“Does one really have to do everything oneself in this damned city?”, he curses as he reopens his eyes.  
The curious gazes of his peers follow him intently as he crosses through the forge with aggressive steps, turning down one of the long, sombre corridors of the Car and directing his steps to the entrance hall which is filled with long beams of bright sunlight and an expectant crowd of smiths that await him eagerly. If this was going to be a public spectacle, so be it.

He throws open the ornated front door and steps out onto the terrace of the Car, blinking in the noon sunlight. A murmur goes through the crowd gathered at the foot of the majestic flight of stairs. About mid-way up a solitary figure stands tall and proud, clad in simple grey garments, plaited golden hair spilling down over one shoulder.  
“This is it?”, Celebrimbor sneers to one of his companions standing to his right side. “A pretty farm-boy is enough to finish of the city-guard?” He takes some long strides down the first few steps.  
“Who do you think you are to come up to the Gwaith and make demands?” His voice rings effortlessly over the gathered crowd. The young man beams brightly, before bowing hastily.  
“Celebrimbor Curufinwion. I am deeply honoured to …” “Spare me.”, Celebrimbor cuts him off sharply while stepping down even further to get a good look at the intruder. Incredibly young and exceedingly fair.  
“I must say, when I was told, someone had taken out twelve members of the city-guard, I had expected something more impressive than this.” The young man looks at him remorsefully.  
“I am ever so sorry. What a terrible misunderstanding. I disabled them as gently I could.” Celebrimbor has to fight back a snort of laughter. “Who are you, boy?”  
“With all due respect, sire, I am not a boy.”, the young man answers crossly. “My name is Annatar.” Another murmur goes through the crowd and Celebrimbor frowns cynically.  
“Either you have rather self-assured parents or, even worse, you have chosen this preposterous name for yourself.”, he answers, all the while asking himself since when he is dragged into a conversation so easily.  
“I have my merits, sire.”, Annatar responds simply as if that was to explain everything. “Which is why I wish to speak to you.” Celebrimbor now finds himself almost face to face to Annatar but he makes sure to remain one step above as to be able to look down on him. “You certainly are determined.”  
“I will do whatever it takes, sire. I must speak with you.” Keen blue eyes meet Celebrimbor’s scrutinizing gaze earnestly. Celebrimbor finds himself both amused and impressed by this eager display of determination.  
“How did you do it?”, he finally asks. “How did you disable several highly capable guards at once?”  
“I am not sure whether I would call them _highly_ capable, sire.”, Annatar replies cheekily. “But they were certainly good fighters. It just happens that I am an even better one.” Celebrimbor cocks his head and lets his gaze travel over Annatar head to toe.  
“Prove it.” He feels the familiar gush of excitement. It has been too long since he has had a good fight. “If you are as fine a swordsman as you seem to think yourself, I will listen to what you have to say.”  
Annatar beams at him brightly. “I am honoured, truly.” He lies his hand self-confidently on the hilt of his sword. “When shall we begin?”

\--

“Sire, do you really think it advisable to …”  
“Tano, if you think I will shy away from a duel with this child you are mistaken.” Celebrimbor had sent a servant to fetch his blade from his house, spending the meantime in the entrance hall where Tano and a few other daring individuals are doing their best to persuade him otherwise. Annatar they had left sitting on the stairs, wearing a smug and very self-satisfied smile.  
“You have not seen him fighting, sire.”, Maenas, a supremely talented elf-woman and well-respected member of the Gwaith, objects.  
“And I do believe, you have never seen me fighting either.”, Celebrimbor replies crisply. “May I remind you that my grandfather and uncle were among the most talented swordsmen ever heard of?” He could have included his father on that list, he thinks to himself cynically, but he was not going to give Curufinwe that honour.  
“You let your pride and your childish desire for a good fight get the better of you.”, Tano diagnoses poignantly. Celebrimbor shoots him a warning glance.  
“And you are forgetting your place. If I wish to hand out a good beating, who are you to stop me?”  
“I will not stop you.”, Tano retorts. “But do not say, I didn’t warn you when you lose.”  
“_If_ I lose.”, Celebrimbor corrects him. “And that is not going to happen.”

Finally, his servant arrives and delivers the sword. Celebrimbor slices through the air a few times, casting a self-confident smile over to Maenas and Tano, before heading back outside where a considerable crowd has gathered. Annatar jumps to his feet as Celebrimbor beckons him to follow suit. The crowd immediately backs off and forms a grand circle as they approach.  
“I cannot thank you enough.”, Annatar says happily as they walk down the stairs.  
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Celebrimbor stops and faces the young man. “Whoever draws blood first wins. Tano here will be the judge of that.” His advisor has stepped into the circle as well and seems supremely unhappy about the entire situation.  
“Very well.”, Anntar replies grinning. “Do you have any preferences as to where I should wound you?” Celebrimbor snorts.  
“Don’t get too cheeky, boy. Humility is a virtue.”  
“Says the great leader of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain.”  
“Are you here to talk smug or to fight?” Elegantly, Annatar draws his sword and positions himself opposite to Celebrimbor. He is tall and lithe, with a considerable reach of arm but Celebrimbor is certain to have the advantage in strength and experience. How old could Annatar be? 200, 300 years at best. Not quite a match for a Calaquendë older than the sun.

They circle each other slowly, Celebrimbor’s face a blank mask, Annatar on the contrary smiling brightly. He attacks suddenly and quick as a stroke of lightening. Celebrimbor retreats backwards, catches the blade with his sword and starts a series of harsh counter-attacks, the clinking of metal on metal ringing over the plaza. Annatar allows himself to be pushed back for a while, then he swiftly retakes the offensive, laughing in delight.  
“You are quite the warrior. Your enemies have every reason to fear you.”  
“And you are quite the cheeky little brat.”, Celebrimbor retorts and puts even more ferocity in his attacks. He is not going to be ridiculed in public.

Annatar turns and dances around Celebrimbor’s blade, fast and vicious as a viper. In stark contrast to Celebrimbor’s clean and efficient strikes, Annatar is putting on a show, whizzing and whirring about, sunlight twinkling in his golden braid. Suddenly, Annatar jumps forward too fast for Celebrimbor’s eyes to catch. Hastily, he forces him backwards.  
“Halt!”, Tano’s voice rings out while Celebrimbor is already aware of the ever so slight burning sensation on his cheek. Incredulously he stares at Annatar who bows low before him.  
“Please forgive me, milord. I did my best to draw blood carefully.” Someone in the breathless crowd begins clapping and soon everyone is applauding. Celebrimbor grits his teeth, but he forces himself to shake Annatar’s hand, avoiding Tano’s look altogether. “Well fought. You better come inside then.”

Inside his luminous office room on the first floor of the Car, Celebrimbor seats himself at his massive desk, ordering Annatar to sit opposite of him. “Who on earth taught you to fight like this?” Annatar shrugs his shoulders.  
“As I said, I have my merits. Anyway, I have not come here to fight. Not even to teach the leader of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain a lesson in humility, which is, as he himself put it so wisely, indeed a virtue.” Celebrimbor frowns at him. “You have made your point. I shouldn’t have underestimated you. What is it that you want from me?”  
“I wish to be taken in as an apprentice to the Gwaith-i-Mírdain.”, Annatar requests plainly. Celebrimbor allows himself a hearty laugh.  
“We do not take apprentices just like that.”, he finally responds. “They are handpicked every year from the finest smiths among our people. If you want to join, you better use that grid of yours to build up a proper reputation. Then we can talk.” Annatar folds his arms.  
“You are not taking me seriously.”  
“Well, obviously not. If that is all, you will excuse me. I have work to do and have been delayed quite enough already.” As he gets up, Annatar hastily blocks the way to the door.  
“I am ten times better a smith than I am a fighter.”, he insists.  
“Even if I was to believe that.”, Celebrimbor mocks. “So what?”  
“You are the best smith around. I wish to learn from the best.”  
“An honourable wish, but I have already told you what to do. If you really are as good, as you say, I don’t see why you cannot wait for the official selection.” Annatar looks at him intently.  
“Because I don’t simply wish to be any apprentice at the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. I wish to be your apprentice.” Celebrimbor shakes his head disbelievingly.  
“Then you will have to be disappointed, because I do not take apprentices. And even if I did, I would not go for a newcomer such as you would be.”  
“Not even if I could help you to achieve what you have been striving for?” Celebrimbor was just about to drag Annatar out of his room forcefully if need be, but now freezes in the midst of the room. “What did you just say?”  
“Your ambitious pursuits are quite famous, sire and I believe, I can help you. Nay, we can help each other.” Annatar stretches out a hand and presents to Celebrimbor a small and plain silver ring.  
“And that would be?”, Celebrimbor asks flatly.  
“It doesn’t look like much.”, Annatar agrees. “But it allows its bearer to see far and wide as a falcon. It’s terribly rough craftsmanship though, and not very easy to control.” He beckons Celebrimbor to reach over his hand. “If I may?” Celebrimbor nods weakly. This couldn’t be possible.  
Carefully, Annatar slides the ring on Celebrimbor’s hand. For a moment, the Lord of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain is startled, as his vision is blurred, and his head starts spinning. “I feel like I am drunk.”, he finally manages to say. Annatar smiles and shrugs his shoulders apologetically. “I told you, it’s hard to control. But it is the secret, you were looking for, isn’t it? The successful merging of willpower and metal.” Celebrimbor gives a relieved sigh, as he takes off the ring and hands it back.  
“How is this possible? You are so incredibly young and …”  
“Your grandfather wasn’t much older when he started inventing one marvellous thing after another.”, Annatar interrupts him quietly. “And the craftsmanship is, as I mentioned before, quite unrefined. But if you and I were to join forces…” Celebrimbor meets his gaze in amazement.  
“You would be willing to share such knowledge with me?”  
“Share, improve, expand. Together, we could revolutionize the craft.”  
“You don’t speak like someone who is quite so green behind the ears.” Annatar smiles.  
“I get told that often. I am more capable than I am given credit for, that’s for sure. All the while, I am certain that you will not make the same mistake, sire.” Celebrimbor massages his temples.  
“I will have to think about it.” Annatar claps his hands together. “Seriously? You would consider it? That is more than I had ever hoped for.” He almost bounces up and down, the air of serious determination that he was radiating but seconds ago has quite disappeared.  
“I will get back to you.”, Celebrimbor answers solemnly but he cannot quite suppress a smile at Annatar’s obvious glee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This story begins in 1200 S.A.
> 
> 2) major change: Annatar is not obviously a Maia and certainly not a proclaimed messenger of the Valar. This is of course inconsistant with Tolkien's writings but I have always found it rather hard to believe that the Elves of Eregion wouldn't be able to puzzle "highly capable Maia smith that is being terribly helpful" & "Wasn't there this evil-turned ex Maia of Aule's from the F.A. on the run?" together, so Annatar is a simple Elf (if a particularly handsome one).
> 
> 3) I never intended for Annatar to turn out quite so young but I somehow couldn't stop myself while writing. We shall see how this plays out...
> 
> 4) Work Title from Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice" (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44263/fire-and-ice)


	2. First impressions (or: Of the cleanliness of the forges of the Gwaith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annatar has to prove himself as an apprentice. Or so he thinks.

_The shrieking cries of gulls, the cold glitter of steel and blood everywhere. Cries of horror, Maitimo and Makalaure fighting side by side, grey merciless eyes. “Uncle!”, Celebrimbor hears himself shout, while he fights off an elf still wearing the Feanorian crest, the same crest that used to ornate his own clothes. A silver star rising before a red sky, before a sea of blood._

Panting anxiously Celebrimbor sits upright in bed. He brushes some drenched strands of hair aside and frees his legs from the entangled blanket. Just a dream, just memories. Nothing to be done about it. Quickly he gets out of bed and opens the windows to his bedroom widely as to let the cold air brush away the dark thoughts. For a while he leans against the carven window frame and lets his gaze wander over the high towers, spiralling buildings and arching bridges that are the pride of this city and its inhabitants. Ost-in-Edhil, the marvel of the East, striving to rival Tirion in beauty and skill and as close to a home to him as anything has ever come. He might not be beloved here, but at least well respected and that had to be enough.

The sky is still pitch dark, clouds covering the stars, but Celebrimbor knows for certain that he will not be able to fall a sleep again. With a sigh he gathers his clothes that he had discarded casually all over the floor before going to bed. As tidy as he is in the forge, he couldn’t care less about the state of his rooms. What does he have servants for after all? He snatches an apple from the kitchen and makes his way to the Car while only the slightest crack of dawn is visible in the sky, shuddering against the cold morning breeze.

He slips into the smith’s house through a small side entrance and feels any remnant of his nightmares dissolve into thin air. This was his realm, his sanctuary. His steps echo lightly in the dark corridors and then suddenly break off. A warm red light is streaming out of the forge, not quite what Celebrimbor had expected to find. As he enters the big room, Annatar spins around and greets him warmly.  
“What in Manwe’s name are you doing here already?”, Celebrimbor asks sharply and throws a mistrusting glance around. Everything seems to be in order.  
“Tano introduced me thoroughly yesterday.”, Annatar replies obediently, looking slightly contrite. “He said, all apprentices receive a key to the forge and handed me mine.” He presents an elegant gold key that he has fastened around his neck with a leather band. “When I inquired, he said, you always start your work early, so, as your apprentice, I wanted to make sure, everything is prepared.” He points to the crackling fire in the hearth. “Have I done wrong?” A pair of bright blue eyes is fixed on Celebrimbor attentively. He massages the back of his nose, rather taken aback by so much positive energy in the early morning.  
“No.”, he answers after a while. “No, you haven’t done wrong. Although I would appreciate it if you consulted me the next time before you whizz around busily. After all, I only accepted you yesterday.” Annatar’s face lights up at the mention.  
“I couldn’t wait to start, sire.” Celebrimbor rolls his eyes.  
“I respect enthusiasm, but I would like to remind you that I got myself an apprentice and not a puppy.” Annatar nods with a sudden air of seriousness. “Of course. What can I do?” Celebrimbor sighs and looks around.  
“The forge could use a good sweeping.” Annatar looks at him slightly indignantly and Celebrimbor cannot hold back a snicker. “  
Look, I urgently have to finish this silver coronet that you probably saw while nosing around my workplace. I will concern myself with you properly after having delivered it, agreed?” Annatar bows quickly and fetches a broom without further complaint. Celebrimbor shakes his head in amusement, as he begins the finishing touches on the silver headdress.  
To his surprise he finds Annatar’s quiet chanting while he’s sweeping not in the least disturbing.

With a sigh of relief and a good satisfying stretch, Celebrimbor finishes the coronet, just as the forge begins to fill up. Tano walks over to him immediately, a grave expression on his face.  
“Can I speak to you for a moment?” “Make sure, it’s really just a moment. I have to deliver something to the palace.”, Celebrimbor responds coolly. Tano throws a telling glance over to Annatar.  
“In private?” Celebrimbor sighs. They step outside the forge and into an empty niche facing into the blooming courtyard of the Car.

“Let me guess. You disapprove.” Tano looks at him gravely. “Milord, since when do we accept apprentices out of the blue?”  
“Since when do I have to justify my decisions before you?”, Celebrimbor counters irritably.  
“I do not mean to be disrespectful. It just seems a stark break of tradition to me. You have never shown any interest in taking even a proper apprentice and now this?” Celebrimbor puts a hand to Tano’s shoulder.  
“I know this must seem most unusual.”, he admits. “And I am not yet sure myself, but I think I would like to give Annatar a chance. He will be my apprentice and under my supervision. Should he misbehave, he will find himself back on the street ere he can say Elbereth, rest assured.” Tano looks at him troubledly.  
“The other smiths will not like it, milord.” Celebrimbor gives a sharp laugh.  
“The other smiths do what they are told, Tano. Whether they like it or not is irrelevant to me. Is that all? Because I really need to get going.” They return to the forge for Celebrimbor to fetch the coronet.  
“Would you make sure that my apprentice has something useful to do?”, he asks Tano as Annatar looks up at them expectantly. “He proved himself so perfectly useful at sweeping, maybe we should see whether he can scrub furnaces just as well?”

\--

It is a short walk over to the palace and with long strides, Celebrimbor crosses the main plaza. As common a sight the palace may be to him, he cannot quite seize to admire the perfect synthesis and balance of white marble and glass that arches effortlessly over the rushing waters of the river Glanduin, twinkling in the sunlight like a radiant jewel.

Though not quite as radiant as its queen, Celebrimbor silently thinks to himself before carefully emptying his mind from any such thoughts. He enters the palace through a silver-wrought gate in floral design, the guard waving him through with a respectful bow. He jogs up several flights of stairs and then turns into one of the many passages that branch of left and right. Rays of sunlight fall through the glass front of the corridor that allows a marvellous view over the lower city.

A last ornate gate opens before him, then he enters the throne room and all the sunlight simply fades a way in comparison to her radiance. “Lady Galadriel.” Celebrimbor bows low, though shortly before nodding his head quickly towards her companion. “Celeborn.” It is an open secret that these two do not overly enjoy each other’s company. Neither do they have much in common, nor does Celebrimbor approve of Celeborn’s dislike for dwarves.  
Nor of his choice of wife for that matter, but that had to be accepted as a rather unfortunate fact.

“It is very good to see you.”, Galadriel greets him amicably. “We have much to discuss.”  
“Do we?”, Celebrimbor asks with an air of bemusement. “I am only here to deliver what you ordered.”  
“Rumour has it you have taken in an apprentice.”, Celeborn mentions casually as Celebrimbor hands over a small velvet box to Galadriel.  
“Then rumour is right.”  
“Also concerning the fact that he made you look like quite the fool?”  
Galadriel laughs silvery. “How very unkind of you. Celebrimbor has always been a bit lofty and every now and then one has to measure one’s length.” Celebrimbor smiles back at her cynically, bowing to her scorn.  
“Aye to that.”, he agrees reluctantly. “Annatar has had the better of me.”  
“And for that you reward him with an apprenticeship?”, Celeborn asks persistently and Celebrimbor shoots him a grim glance.  
“What’s it to you? The Gwaith stand under my command, certainly I don’t have to explain my hires and fires to you?” Galadriel clicks her tongue disapprovingly.  
“Now, now. There is no need for discord. Celeborn was only being curious.”  
“Inquisitive, you mean.”, Celebrimbor corrects her gently, before he steps closer. “Let me help you with that.” He disentangles some longer silver strands of the coronet and places them carefully over her long silver-gold tresses. Galadriel smiles in delight. “You have outdone yourself, as was to be expected.” Celebrimbor forces himself to step back and smirks. “Always glad to be of service.”

Galadriel spins around, presenting the coronet to Celeborn. It is most definitely time to go. “I’ll be on my way.”, Celebrimbor excuses himself with a slight cough.  
“Will you introduce us?”, Galadriel asks him over one shoulder.  
“If he is any good.” Another quick bow and Celebrimbor retreats swiftly out of the throne room.

\--

Instead of returning to the forge, Celebrimbor lets himself be absorbed by some administrative work in his office. He likes to take some time away from the furnace after having completed a project, to clear up his mind for new ideas to come.

Only when his belly starts rumbling, he notices how time has flown by. Exhausted, he massages his temples, before making his way downstairs, wondering why the entire place is deserted. Certainly, it was not yet that late? Curiously, he finds the forge empty – or so it seemed. A big cloud of blackened dust suddenly whooshes out of one of the bigger furnaces, followed by a torrent of wild curses. Celebrimbor chuckles lightly.

“Good evening, Annatar.” A sooty face appears in the dark mound. Annatar’s hair is no longer golden but as dark as Celebrimbor`s. “Very funny.”, he mutters, before seemingly remembering whom he is addressing.  
“Forgive the mess, sire.” Celebrimbor waves his hand dismissively.  
“Do not worry. I have cleaned furnaces myself before. You don’t happen to know where everybody has disappeared to?” Annatar climbs out of the furnace and brushes his arm over his forehead, only to make matters worse.  
“They said something of an autumn ball?” Right, that’s what he had prepared the coronet for.  
“Of course. How silly of me to forget. The autumn ball. The grand event of the season.” Annatar cocks his head and watches him closely.  
“I had presumed, you would have already gone, sire.”  
“You don’t have to attach that to every phrase you say, I am not a royal majesty. As to your presumption, I never go to such … gatherings.”  
“May I ask why not?”  
“You are rather impertinent, are you not?”, Celebrimbor mocks mildly. “But you may indeed ask, since it’s common knowledge anyway. Neither am I particularly welcome nor do I value these things enough to allocate much time to them.”  
“Why should you not be welcome?” Celebrimbor laughs bleakly.  
“You seem fairly quick on your feet. I am sure you can work it out.” Annatar nods silently. “Anyway, just because I prefer a solitary evening to myself, that does not mean that you have to choose the same. It seems like a good opportunity to introduce yourself.” Annatar points back to the furnace.  
“It’s not yet clean.” He pulls a grimace. “Far from it.”  
“Don’t be silly. You can finish it some other time.”  
“I prefer to finish my work properly once I’ve begun.”, Annatar insists and climbs back onto the sill of the furnace. Celebrimbor nods his head in appreciation. “If that is so…”, he says with a slight smirk while fetching a small broom, “…let me share in your fate.”

\--

Weeks slip by without much notice. Celebrimbor has meetings to chair, projects to organize and designs to complete. Yet it doesn’t slip his attention that Annatar always starts his work slightly before him and finishes off last and only because he sends him on his way.

“I know what you are doing.”, Annatar addresses him one day in the office, head bowed low over thick books with accounts.  
“Do you now?”, Celebrimbor responds absentmindedly, while scanning over his letters.  
“You are trying to put me off.”  
“How did you get that idea?”  
“I don’t mean to complain, just to state the facts.”, Annatar begins. “You only give me the nastiest tasks, you are constanltly absent or working on your own and you never instruct me personally on anything.”  
Celebrimbor smiles. Next thing, Annatar would tell him that that was not what he had come here for.  
“Are you quite done yet?”, he asks amusedly.  
“It’s not going to work, you know?”, Annatar answers earnestly and leaves Celebrimbor surprised. “You are not going to scare me away with boredom and wiry work. I can take much worse than that.” Celebrimbor looks at up at him with a snicker.  
“I am sure of it. Nothing builds character like the good old ways.”  
“Is that how you were introduced to forging?”, Annatar inquires curiously.  
“Indeed, it was. My father was not exactly the caring type of teacher.” Celebrimbor hastily shuts his mouth. Since when does he openly speak of Curufinwe?  
“Then I am lucky.”, Annatar replies with a smile.  
“How so?”  
“Well, if the good old ways turned you into the best smith around, there must be something to them. I am certain, they will do me some good.” Celebrimbor cocks an eyebrow.  
“Whatever.” He hands a letter over to Annatar. “We shall put you out of your misery then. This is from a friend, or rather an acquaintance, of mine. She wishes a silver bracelet with some carvings. Nothing too fancy. Are you up for it?” Annatar’s face lights up as if Celebrimbor had just given him the task to forge a crown for the Highking himself. “You can use my workplace for now. I will see to you getting your own soon. Off you go.”

\--

It is not three days later that Annatar greets him happily in the morning, presenting the bracelet. “That was quick.”, Celebrimbor comments suspiciously and takes a close look at the carvings and ornaments. Everything immaculately done.  
“Just because _I_ don’t finish last minute, that doesn’t mean, it’s not properly done.”, Annatar responds crossly. Celebrimbor lifts his head.  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“You need the pressure of the deadline impending to finish anything.”, Annatar pinpoints. “You are too perfectionistic.” Celebrimbor clicks his tongue.  
“One can never be too perfectionistic. But this …” He lifts the bracelet. “…this is some fine work indeed. Well done.”  
“Thank you.” Celebrimbor throws a glance over Annatar’s shoulder to his workplace. Neat and orderly, as he would have left it. Annatar’s smile has gotten even bigger as if he had read Celebrimbor’s mind.  
“I suggest, you deliver the bracelet personally. I can hardly claim the glory for myself. My acquaintance lives in the lower city, so why don’t you make a day of it? Ost-in-Edhil is a marvellous place and you have taken barely any time away from the Car.”  
“I like it here. It’s a place of hard work and learning and everybody shares a common interest.” Celebrimbor nods in agreement.  
“Many of my colleagues seem quite smitten by you.”  
“Only trying to be of help wherever I can, sire.” Celebrimbor rolls his eyes. “I told you not to call me that.”  
“How else am I supposed to address you then?” He shrugs his shoulders.  
“You know my name, don’t you? I suggest, you use it.”  
“None of the other members of the Gwaith calls you that.”, Annatar answers evasively.  
“True enough, although I have asked them more than once. I presume they want to shun any closer ties with me than being my co-workers. Nobody wants to be associated too closely with a Feanorion.”  
“That seems quite harsh.” Celebrimbor waves his hand in decline.  
“Nothing I wouldn’t be used to. It hasn’t been any different for most of my life.”  
“I am sorry to hear that.”, Annatar replies carefully. “And I am honoured if I may call you by your name.”  
“You are deeply honoured by no matter what I say.”, Celebrimbor mocks. “Now, a lady is waiting for her jewelry. That’s never a good thing.”  
“As you wish.”

Dutifully, Annatar whooshes away, just to turn his head back, right before disappearing around the corner. “Celebrimbor? Have a nice day!”  
It has been a long time that Celebrimbor had to thank the fact that he doesn’t blush anymore, as the heads of his fellow smiths turn inquisitively towards him. He smiles coolly, then returns to his furnace without further ado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) There is of course no mention of Celebrimbor's presence at the Third Kinslaying but I don't see any reason why he shouldn't have been there. If he actually was in Gondolin, he would have made his way alongside the refugees to the mouths of Sirion and even if that wasn't the case, Sirion was the last Elven dwelling in Beleriand, so it seems like a reasonable gathering point for anybody who doesn't want anything to do with the left-over Feanorians. (Which of course it wasn't, but hindsight is 20/20.)
> 
> 2) About the names of Feanor's sons: I have always guessed that they would address each other with their mothernames (or nicknames) if among each other or within the family, so that Celebrimbor would now his uncles as Maitimo, Makalaure etc. Fathernames seem much too formal for this occasion. Curufin is an exception, since I have always seen him as striving to be a mini-Feanor, therefore he would have others address him as Curufinwe, including his son.


	3. In many-pillared halls of stone (or: Do female dwarves wear beards?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor's old friend enters the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nogothrim (Sindarin) = dwarves

Celebrimbor is gathering together some of his works in progress and carefully drawn designs, as he hears Annatar approaching.

“You are leaving?” He nods slightly while packing some last things into a leather backpack.   
“Only for a few days. I will visit some friends.”  
“I thought you don’t have friends.”, Annatar retorts boldly, though with his typical charismatic smile.   
“Charming.”, Celebrimbor answers, shaking his head. “I do not have very many friends among the Eldar, that is hardly a secret.” Annatar’s eyes light up.   
“You are going to visit the Nogothrim! What are they like? I’ve never met any of them. Is it true that the females have beards as well?” Celebrimbor cannot suppress a good laugh at Annatar’s bewilderment.   
“That’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Whether female dwarves have beards?” Annatar raises his hands apologetically.   
“It must be quite an astonishing sight, if it were true. Now, is it?” Celebrimbor shoulders his backpack.   
“How about you find that out for yourself. Care to join?” Annatar looks like he is fighting back the urge to fall around Celebrimbor’s neck. “I will meet you in thirty minutes at the foot of the stairs.”

\--

Annatar awaits him already, his golden hair shining brightly in the morning sun. Instead of his usual grey garments, he has changed into a dark blue travel outfit that looks very comely indeed.

“We are visiting dwarves, not elven ladies. You are not going to impress them with that.”, Celebrimbor greets him mockingly.   
“I need some opportunity to wear these fancy clothes of mine.”, Annatar protests. “They won’t do me any good in the forge.”

They mount their horses and start down the trade-road to the east in a swift pace.

“You would have plenty of opportunity to wear them in the city if you ever fancied going out properly.”   
“Funny thing to hear that from you.”   
“Well, I do not desire to show off my fancy clothes.” Annatar spurs his horse on as the road broadens towards the city gates.   
“Too bad actually. I am sure they suit you.”

It is a two-day ride to the gates of Khazad-dûm but Annatar is as excited as if the dwarven realm lay just around the next corner.

“Why do you like them? Dwarves, I mean.”   
“Because they don’t drive me up the wall with constant questions.”, Celebrimbor retorts. “On the contrary, they know when to keep their mouths shut.” Annatar pulls a face at him when he thinks Celebrimbor isn’t looking. “Then they must be quite sour companions indeed.” He beckons his horse to pick up its pace, passing up Celebrimbor without giving much heed. Celebrimbor sighs.   
“I take it back. I am barely used to much close company.” Annatar frowns at him.   
“We’ve been on the road for four hours, at most.”   
“My point exactly.”   
“I cannot believe that.”, Annatar insists. “I don’t think you are quite so solitary in nature as you are pretending to be.”   
“Not everybody can be a chatterbox like you.”   
“I am just trying to make conversation. There is no reason for you to be rude about it.” Celebrimbor exhales sharply.   
“You never stop, do you?” Annatar looks at him intently.   
“I just don’t get it. The other members of the Gwaith like me, only you persistently keep me at arm’s length. Have I done something wrong?” Celebrimbor shakes his head calmly.   
“Certainly not. And I do not dislike you. I just don’t …” He breaks off and lets his gaze wander over the bland landscape.   
“Don’t what?” Celebrimbor almost feels Annatar’s blue eyes burning a hole in his back.   
“As you said. I don’t have friends.”

They ride long into the night until Celebrimbor decides to give the horses some time to graze on an open plain. Annatar silently lies back in the grass, legs crossed, and gazes at the starry sky, the sickle of the Valar gleaming brightly above.

Celebrimbor fetches one of his more preliminary manuscripts out of its leather casing and starts thinking over and modifying the formulas. He has been trying to figure out how exactly Annatar managed what he managed for quite some time now, without being willing to ask. Was it pride? Morbid ambition? At any rate, it hasn’t gotten him much further than producing shapeless silver clumps that he hastily hid from the prying eyes of his colleagues. It was infuriating. He scribbles around a bit without really having any idea what he is trying to achieve as he suddenly feels Annatar’s intense gaze locked on him.

“Why don’t you just ask? I’ve already told you I would share my knowledge with you.” Celebrimbor doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes firmly on the parchment before him. He has never liked it when his thoughts could be plucked from his mind just like that. Annatar rolls over on his belly and peeps over Celebrimbor’s thigh at the script. He chuckles lightly.   
“Not bad, not bad at all.” Celebrimbor rolls his eyes.   
“May I remind you of your place? Such comments are hardly for a mere apprentice to make.”   
“I am not a mere apprentice, I am _your_ apprentice.”   
“Flattery will not be of any avail. I am quite immune to it.” Annatar laughs quietly before stretching out a hand for Celebrimbor’s quill.   
“If I may?” Reluctantly, Celebrimbor hands it over and Annatar adds and adjusts a few formulas, changing what Celebrimbor has written but in the slightest.   
“There. That should make sure that the metal does not decompose from the surge of energy that you are trying to channel into it.” Celebrimbor stares at the parchment, then at Annatar, then back at the parchment. “Impossible.”, he replies disdainfully. “It cannot be that easy.”   
“Well, you were more than halfway there. I only added as little I could.” Celebrimbor feels a sudden rush of excitement and a hot wish, not to have left his forge for the days to come.   
“I … I don’t know how to thank you enough.” Annatar laughs happily.   
“Seeing the stern leader of the Gwaith in lack of words is a reward in and of itself. But as a matter of fact, …” He rolls away from Celebrimbor onto his back again. “…if you are so keen on demonstrating your gratitude, I would like it if we could start working together properly, whence we return to the Car.” Celebrimbor snorts lightly.   
“I will give it some thought. It’s a shame though, I have never seen the forges as clean as they have been kept since your arrival.”

\--

In the early evening of the next day, they finally reach the barren spur of the Misty Mountains, clad in snow and gravel. Annatar shudders in the cold winds blowing unhindered over the rough plains.

“I do not much like the cold.”, he explains without Celebrimbor having asked. “I thrive in warmth and heat.”   
“You will get that once we enter Khazad-dûm. The great logfires and furnaces of the dwarves will keep us plenty warm.”

He himself is immensely looking forward to some good hearty food and drink and fine conversation.

“Are you sure we have come to the right place?” Annatar inquires disbelievingly as Celebrimbor dismounts in front of a massive wall of pure rock and sends the horses on their way.   
“Do you really have to question my authority in just about anything I do?”   
“Do you always answer questions with questions?”   
“Hmpf.” Celebrimbor seats himself on a mossy rock, paying no further heed to Annatar who manages to remain silent for a grand total of ten minutes.

“There is no shame in turning back if one has taken the wrong path, you know?”   
“I find myself exactly where I want to be.”   
“Shall I make a fire then?”, Annatar offers cynically, but Celebrimbor only shakes his head, his gaze locked on the darkening sky and the rising moon.   
“Finally.” He smiles and gets up, directing Annatar over to a pair of tall Holin trees right against the bare wall.

Then, like precious ores permeate stone, fine silver veins start spreading through the rock, gracefully flowing and winding until they find themselves in front of an ornate door. Celebrimbor smiles at Annatar who is studying the shining letters admiringly.

“Welcome to the dwarven realm of Khazad-dûm. If you know how to open the gates, that is.” Annatar looks at him curiously and steps in closer, a finger sliding over the carvings, then suddenly beaming brightly.   
“It doesn’t take much.”, he says triumphantly. “Any old fool could work it out in seconds.” Dramatically, he opens both arms.   
“Mellon!”, his voice rings clearly through the valley and without even the slightest noise, the doors swing open.

Orange light spills out into the frosty gloom and a warm breeze flows over them.   
“After you.”, Celebrimbor invites Annatar with a smile.   
“How impractical.”, Annatar comments, as they step in. “The door only being there at night, I mean.” Celebrimbor clicks his tongue amusedly.   
“There are other entrances, obviously”   
“Why on earth did you make us freeze like miserable rats outside then?”   
“Just some showing off, dear apprentice, to remind you who is the true master around here.”

\--

“If that isn’t my favourite Noldo. Will you never announce yourself?”, Narvi’s voice booms through the corridor and Celebrimbor spins around, his facing lighting up as he spots his friend’s sooty face in the crowd. His breath is forced out of him by Narvi’s impressive arms that wrap around him.   
“It is great to see you.”, he greets him. “You look good as ever.”   
“Liar!”, Narvi laughs heartily. “My bones are creaking, my skin is crumpling and my beard is turning grey, whereas you remain the same ever-young bastard.”   
With a sting, Celebrimbor notices that his friend has indeed aged, though his eyes still gleam with the familiar cheer and determination that had drawn Celebrimbor to him in the first place. He steps aside to give Narvi a good view of Annatar. The dwarf cocks an eyebrow.   
“And who might that be? Tyelpe, have you finally picked yourself a girlfriend?” Annatar looks both indignant and incredulous at the same time as his master and his friend are shaken by a strong bout of laughter which is just getting stronger as they notice Annatar’s air of annoyance. Celebrimbor wipes a tear from the corner of his eyes.   
“Narvi, may I introduce? This is Annatar, my apprentice.”   
“At your service.”, Annatar mumbles crossly.   
“Annatar sincerely wishes to know whether female dwarves wear beards.”, Celebrimbor continues with a smirk at Annatar’s horrified expression.   
“She is cheeky, your elf-maiden.”   
“I am _not_ an elf-maiden.”, Annatar retorts, his cheeks flushed.   
“Neither am I a dwarf-lady.”, Narvi continues with a grin. “Nor does my wife wear a beard, though that’s mainly due to the fact that she shaves.” For once, Annatar seems to be at the end of his wits.   
“Look what you are doing to my poor apprentice.”, Celebrimbor jokes. “I am afraid, he has no experience with the directness of dwarves.”   
“Then he is in for a treat. Will he join us to a pub?” Celebrimbor looks at Annatar.   
“I was thinking to go to the forges first to …”   
“Nonsense.”, Narvi interrupts him, shaking his head. “It is late enough, and you will have every opportunity to busy yourself tomorrow.” Celebrimbor shrugs his shoulders and turns to Annatar.   
“Are you in for some dwarvish entertainment then?”

The pub is filled with chatter, the crackling of fire and a considerable amount of smoke, floating through the air like mist. Celebrimbor’s eyes still tear up after all these years. Annatar on the other hand seems to be wholly indifferent to the stuffy air as Celebrimbor notices with a sting of disappointment. Narvi’s voice rings through the crowd as he orders three jugs of ale and Celebrimbor is greeted time and again as they cross the room to a free table lit by warm candlelight. Annatar seems curious to take in every little detail.

“How does the circulation work, I wonder?”, he asks Celebrimbor quietly as they settle next to each other.   
“There is no need to whisper. That’s a secret that I have been trying to jinx out of Narvi and the rest of them for years now, but they simply won’t tell.” Narvi gives him a cryptic smile. <  
“Tyelpe here already knows more of our ways than most. It sometimes seems, he is more than half a dwarf himself.”   
“I wouldn’t mind that.”, Celebrimbor answers with a warm smile, before taking a big sip of ale and ordering himself a humongous meal.   
“I see, you haven’t lost your appetite.”, Narvi comments mockingly and Celebrimbor shrugs his shoulders. “You see, Annatar, your master here can eat his way through half the food storage of Khazad-dûm and yet remains as lithe as a young tree.”   
“In Ost-in-Edhil, he never takes time to eat.”, Annatar answers disbelievingly.   
“Well, then you ought to look after him a bit.”   
“Thank you, mother.”, Celebrimbor hastily interrupts their chat. “I doubt that will be necessary.”

Narvi pulls out a long carven pipe and begins stuffing it with pipeweed from a small leather bag he carries with him. “You don’t mind, do you?”   
“You know that I don’t.”, Celebrimbor replies, although he makes sure to lean back a bit. Annatar shakes his head.   
“On the contrary, I would like to try it, if I may?” Celebrimbor smiles at him crookedly.   
“Beware. I have made the same mistake before and I thought it would be the end of me.” Narvi lets out a booming laugh.   
“Aye! I had to hold back the poor chap’s hair the entire night while he was emptying his stomach and he bore a fine green complexion for days on end.” Celebrimbor shrugs at the memory of that awful evening.   
“I am certain my lungs are up to the challenge.”, Annatar replies with a self-confident smile. Narvi and Celebrimbor exchange amused looks.   
“Suit yourself.”, Narvi says, smiling broadly while handing over the lit-up pipe. Annatar wipes over the mouth piece theatrically before taking in a very long puff.

Celebrimbor leans forward, putting the tips of his fingers together. This promised to be great fun.

Annatar breathes out again, producing a perfectly round smoke-ring that glides gracefully through the dusky air, then disintegrates slowly.

Narvi starts clapping loudly whereas Celebrimbor puts his head on his crossed arms. This was hardly fair.

“Maybe there is more to you than I first thought.”, Narvi acknowledges and Annatar bows his head courteously, before taking another deep inhale.   
“Fine stuff, this.”, he says while closing his eyes in the delight.   
“I know.”, Narvi responds quickly. “And you have had quite enough of it.” Annatar hands back the pipe with a grin and taps Celebrimbor on the shoulder.   
“Cheer up. I am sure you have other qualities.”   
“You can take my word for that.”, Narvi answers in Celebrimbor’s stead. “He can drink most dwarves under the table.”   
“I am relieved to see my value properly appreciated.”, Celebrimbor answers ironically, before suddenly getting up.   
“The evening is on me.”, he shouts through the room, toasting his jug to the dwarves around. Loud applause rings through the room.   
“Is that wise?”, Annatar asks as Celebrimbor sits back down. “Dwarves are quite famous for their thirst.”   
“What have I told you about questioning my decisions?”   
“Tyelpe is stinking rich. He could probably buy all of Ost-in-Edhil if he fancied.”   
“Isn’t that an interesting thought?”, Celebrimbor responds and empties his glass.

It is already beginning to dawn as Celebrimbor and Narvi finally end their conversation and head past a few snoring dwarves towards the exit of the pub.   
“Mellon nin, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you again.”, Celebrimbor smiles, his tongue but the slightest bit heavy from the ale. Narvi gives him a good pat on the back.   
“As I am to see you. And that apprentice of yours, for that matter. He is sharp as a knife, it will do you some good to have proper competition.” Celebrimbor snickers. Annatar may be sharp, but he is not that sharp.

They wave their goodbyes as he takes a left towards his quarters, the warmly lit corridor swinging gently from left to right around him. Celebrimbor opens his door and freezes, the hand still on the knob.

Annatar is lying sprawled out all over Celebrimbor’s bed, robes partially shed as if he had decided against mid-way leaving most of his upper body uncovered. Celebrimbor quickly turns his head before telling himself off for being quite ridiculous. He shouldn’t be too surprised after all. Annatar had overeagerly accepted the challenge of besting his master in drinking also but then had stumbled off to bed hours before. The wrong bed, Celebrimbor now thinks to himself with a sigh.

Carefully, he steps in closer, noticing how Annatar’s neat braid has curled up upon his head, not unlike a bird’s nest. A chuckle escapes him at the sight of his apprentice, always perfectly smart, in such a state of disarray. He tugs his shoulder gently, then more roughly as Annatar does not respond. Finally, Annatar lets out a hissing sound, waving his hand around in an uncoordinated manner as if chasing away an annoying fly.

“Beast.” He hears him growl into the pillows. “Leave me be.”   
“You drunken fool.”, Celebrimbor mutters with an air of amusement.   
“My _head_!”, Annatar yelps, slowly opening his eyes and looking at Celebrimbor complainingly. “It _hurts_!”   
“It only serves you right. If you hadn’t been so smug …”   
“Meh.”, Annatar interrupts him bluntly and tries to get to his feet, only to swerve around unstably and then collapsing again, right into Celebrimbor’s hastily opened arms.   
“Boy, you are heavy.”, Celebrimbor grunts while unsuccessfully trying to shove him back on his feet. Annatar on the contrary seems to feel perfectly at ease in his current position, his body going slack and his head placed comfortably on Celebrimbor’s shoulder.   
“Oh, great. When I accepted you, I did not sign up for …”   
“Bring me to bed.”, Annatar whispers sleepily watching Celebrimbor with big blue eyes. “Please.” Letting out another sigh, Celebrimbor puts his arm around Annatar’s waist, carefully manoeuvring him through the door.   
“You are going to break some pitiable ladies’ hearts with those puppy eyes of yours.”, he says softly, although his companion is quite beyond listening.

He escorts Annatar to the neighbouring room and soon decides that carrying him is a lot easier than relying on his walking skills.   
“Have you never drunk anything before?”, Celebrimbor mutters, shaking his head. “I almost feel guilty for corrupting you to my evil ways.” Annatar snores happily into his ear. Gently, Celebrimbor places him on his own bed and tugs the blanket around him. Annatar immediately curls up, wrapping himself around the blanket, his robes sliding. Time to leave.

Celebrimbor beats a hasty retreat, meanwhile brushing of feelings of guilt. He had not asked to see his apprentice in this way, yet he cannot shed the distinct awkwardness of having witnessed Annatar in such a state. Back in his own room, it takes a good long while for him to finally fall asleep.

He is awoken the next morning by some rough cursing even audible through the thick stone walls of Khazad-dûm. Taking a deep breath, he gets up carefully and stumbles over to his desk to have a glass of water. He cannot have slept for more than two or three hours.

“Valar be damned!” He rubs his temples and fights back the urge to shout back. Instead, he knocks on the neighbouring door.   
“Annatar?”   
“The door is open. Useless crap!” Celebrimbor steps inside, not quite knowing what to expect. Certainly not to find his apprentice dressed only in breeches with a brush in his hand in front of a small mirror tackling the mess on his head.   
“What in earth’s name …”   
“I’ve got a nest on my head. A _nest_! How could I have forgotten…” Celebrimbor turns on his heels to leave the room again.   
“No, wait.”, Annatar says hastily. “Please. I need help.”   
“If you think your vanity interests me only the tiniest bit, you are mistaken.” Annatar whooshes over with god’s speed and places himself between Celebrimbor and the door.   
“Please? At least to disentangle the worst?”   
“I am not a lady’s maid.”, Celebrimbor retorts, his mood not exactly elevated by the buzzing pain between his temples.   
“Well, whom else am I supposed to ask? Narvi? His beard-shaving wife?” Celebrimbor has to laugh despite himself and rolls his eyes. He beckons Annatar to hand over the brush who beams at him brightly and seats himself quietly on a small stool.

With quick efficient movements, Celebrimbor works his way through the hairy knot.   
“How in god’s name do you sleep?”   
“I normally braid my hair before bed.”, Annatar answers defensively. “Just yesterday…I didn’t find my brush.”   
“Probably because you were in my room.” Annatar looks at him in horror.   
“I am so sorry. It was all dark and confusing and...”   
“And you were drunk out of your mind.”   
“That too.” Celebrimbor chuckles and disentangles the last tresses, letting Annatar’s hair flow like a golden curtain far over his back.   
“Thank you so much.” Annatar tilts his head backwards, his blue eyes gleaming and a bright smile on his lips. Suddenly aware of this intimate position, Celebrimbor takes a long step back.   
“I’ll see you outside in a moment then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) About the entrance to Khazad-dûm: Tolkien wrote that the door was kept open consistantly until Sauron finally overran Eregion, which I changed here for the point of narrative. Also to make the dwarven realm a little more climate friendly. Open doors in mid-winter? Just imagine the heating costs....
> 
> 2) About further doors to the dwarven city: If I understand Tolkien correctly (which is a big if), there is exactly two entrances to Khazad-dûm, being the Dimrill Gate at the east side of the Misty Mountains and the Doors of Durin on the west side. For a major dwelling and trading city that seems to be quite few, and that is not even taking security issues into account. Did no one think about emergency exits for spontaneous dragon visits or Balrog flights? Well, in case of this story, they actually did, so we have an additional (and unspecified) number of doors that probably won't ever be relevant again, but good thing I have told you all about them now. 
> 
> 3) Despite the fact that I have my Elves speak mainly Sindarin by the time of the S.A., I do think that Celebrimbor would have his friend address him by his Quenya nickname, as a way of addressing that is only used between intimate acquaintances. Of which, as you might have guessed, this Celebrimbor doesn't have all too many...


	4. A visitor for the night and the coming day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor and Annatar are finally getting somewhere (but then there's always the practical side of things to consider)

Working with Annatar is a delight. He is witty and determined, his intellect sparkling as bright as his hair in the sunshine. Having directed most of the administrative work to Tano and Maenas for the time being, Celebrimbor is able to spend long days and, not uncommonly, also long nights in the forges, crafting, refining and discussing with Annatar.

The buzz of energy and excitement that they radiate seems to affect the other smiths as well. Now more than ever, Celebrimbor feels like all of them are truly pulling on one end of the same rope, inventing, innovating, improving as never before, like they are breaking through and revolutionizing in a way that even Feanor himself hadn’t managed. Gems perfectly cut, snatching the sunlight out of the air, crowns, necklaces and bracelets with the most intricate detail, giving their owners an air of charisma, charm, even irresistibility.

By the day, bigger and bigger shipments of jewels and precious metals arrive from Khazad-dûm and the smiths are happy to return the favour in kind, sending back many of their most beautiful works to the dwarven realm. The Gwaith-i-Mírdain, formerly a mere guild among many, are on everybody’s lips, their fame and power ever expanding.

It is on one of these late nights that Celebrimbor finally locks the door of the Car with his brazen key and walks through the dark alleyways of Ost-in-Edhil, cool wind brushing over his skin. He whistles a quiet tune and feels the urge to skip rather than walk back home.

As tired as he may be, his new idea is worth all the trouble and more. A project, a device, to stay decay, to preserve things as they ought to be and maintain perfection unstained of change. If he can find a way to create such a thing, if it may be possible, he could turn this very middle-earth into a place of bliss and permanence, mirroring and rivalling even Valinor. A blasphemous thought, a distant part of his mind whispers, yet it is easily ignored. He owes nothing to the Valar, having forsaken him and everybody else around for deeds that many of them never had a hand in, deeds that _he_ never had a hand in and yet has paid for as long as he can remember.

Distant cries pull him harshly back to reality and he cocks his head curiously, listening over the silent wail of the wind. Voices, several ones and not too far away. Celebrimbor knits his brow. The area around the palace is normally quiet and empty at night, passers-by much preferring the pubs and open halls of the lower city to the majestic architecture of the city hill. Without wasting further time, Celebrimbor directs his steps towards the source of the noise, pacing down a narrow street along the backside of the palace, taking a turn to the left and suddenly coming to a halt.

Four figures at the distant end of a blind lane, dimly lit by the silvery light of a Noldorin latern held by one of them. Celebrimbor recognizes Annatar in the blink of an eye. Arms bent to his back, forced to his knees by a broad elf standing behind him, blood quelling from a long cut over his cheek, he does not blink once as he spitefully holds the gaze of his assailant who lets out a sharp laugh as he reaches out to strike a second time.

“Take your hands of him!” Celebrimbor’s fury spreads through the alleyway like a dark and fierce storm, his voice ringing clear through the cold night. The assembled elves stumble back, faces white as snow, letting Annatar collapse to the ground without paying him further heed. Celebrimbor’s eyes brush over him quickly, worry smoothening out the rage on his face for a few moments, then he tightens his back and shoulders and puts the ever so slight smile on his lips that he has seen on his father’s face so many times. No mistake how effective it is. “Run.”, he tells them gently and sends them rushing off with a sudden step their way, before hastily bowing down to Annatar.

Carefully, he turns him around by one shoulder, taking in a hissing breath as he gets a closer look at the nasty cut all over the cheek, crossing not far from the eye. “How dare they…”, he whispers, immediately regretting having let them off the hook so easily. Annatar blinks at him, smiles weakly and coughs.  
“I provoked them.”, he mutters, but Celebrimbor shakes his head wildly.  
“Calm. Don’t push yourself. I will take you to my house, it’s just a few streets.”  
“I am fine. There is no need.” Annatar tries to get to his feet and sinks back down with a whimper, a hand pressed to his side. “That bastard’s kicks were aimed well.”, he curses and his eyelids flutter.  
“They will pay for this.”, Celebrimbor hisses while lifting Annatar as gently as possible, yet causing him to yelp out in pain.  
“Please, you don’t have to …”  
“Will you just shut up?” Celebrimbor’s thoughts are racing. Probably some broken ribs, a deep cut on the cheek, maybe even a concussion from the impact of the strike. He would have to fetch a healer.  
“I’ve overheard their conversation.”, Annatar continues with a rough voice and clasps Celebrimbor’s arm urgently. “They called you a kinslayer, a disgrace to this city, a traitor to both family and kin … I couldn’t … How dare they?” His head droops and blood dribbles over Celebrimbor’s shoulder who just shakes his head in disbelief. This was hardly news, on the contrary, he is well aware that stories like these are probably told in most pubs at one time or another.  
“You fool. You absolute idiot.”, he says crisply but with a crooked smile on his face. Annatar looks up at him, eyes bright and clear.  
“They are the fools.”, he whispers. “They do not see who you are, what you are capable off.” Celebrimbor roughly pushes open the front portal to his house and manoeuvres Annatar through the entrance.  
“That is quite enough.”, he cuts him short with a snort. “And definitely not a reason to get yourself beaten up for.”  
“I would always do it again.” Gently, Annatar is placed on Celebrimbor’s bed.  
“That’s because you are a damned fool, as I said. Stay here, I will fetch a healer and…” Annatar shakes his head hastily, letting out a hissing sigh at the sensation.  
“No healers. I am fine, I tell you.”  
“You are not _fine_. Far from it.”  
“Don’t make a fuzz.” Annatar looks around the room. “So, this is where you live?” Celebrimbor stares at him in disbelief.  
“Seriously?” Annatar cocks his head slightly.  
“Please. I don’t want a healer. If you could fetch something to wipe away the blood, that will do.” Celebrimbor shrugs his shoulders helplessly – this was a bad idea – and quickly goes off to fetch some water and bandages as well as a few herbs that might help to relieve the pain. Having gone hunting with Tyelcormo certainly had its benefits. When he returns, he finds Annatar studying the bland room with some interest.  
“Have you just moved in?”  
“On the contrary. I have been living here for most of my time in Ost-in-Edhil.” Celebrimbor dabs some cloth in the cool water and gently clears the blood from Annatar’s cheek and neck, inspecting the cut.  
“It is so … empty.”  
“Hold still. ”, Celebrimbor orders with a smile. “I don’t spend much time here, as you well know.” Annatar looks up at him dreamily.  
“It is so hot in here.” He tries to lift his arms and pulls a grimace from the pain. Celebrimbor cocks his head in worry.  
“You seem quite put off. I really ought to call a healer.”  
“I will run away if you do!” Helplessly, Annatar pulls on his shirt. “Just help me get this _off_.”  
“Not used to that much resistance when it comes to undressing you, eh?”, Celebrimbor mocks, making sure the tone of the conversation stays where it belongs – friendly. Annatar suddenly holds his gaze, his eyes, usually bright as the morning sky, darkening.  
“Do you mind undressing me?” Celebrimbor snorts and puts aside the bloody cloth.  
“You don’t know what you are saying. I don’t think the cut has to …”  
“I couldn’t care less about the cut.”, Annatar interrupts earnestly and leans forward, eyes half-closed. For a split second, Celebrimbor freezes, hands clutching into the bedding, then he hastily recoils backwards, almost tripping over the bowl of water he has brought with him.  
“That is enough. You clearly are delirious.” Hastily, he turns his head to avoid Annatar seeing the flush of his cheeks.  
“If you prefer to see it that way.”, comes the answer, timid and clearly hurt. Celebrimbor’s heart is racing but he forces himself to empty his mind. Control at all times.  
“If you don’t want a healer, I will have to take a look at your ribs.” Annatar shrugs his shoulders, avoiding Celebrimbor’s eyes.  
“Suit yourself.” A companion in need of assistance, nothing more. Nothing more, Celebrimbor asserts to himself as he takes a seat on the bed and brushes aside the thin layer of linen that covers up Annatar’s bruising side body. Celebrimbor feels a sudden sting. This has been done on his behalf.  
“Damn fool.”, he repeats gently before he crumbles up some of the herbs.  
“I couldn’t just listen to this… this …_ blasphemy_.”  
“You will have to. There is nothing to be done about it.”  
“We should fight back. You are the head of the Gwaith, we can …”  
“Stop this nonsense. It will cost you dearly if you don’t guard your tongue.” Anger sparkles in Annatar’s blue eyes but he falls silent as Celebrimbor places the herbs on his ribcage and lifts him forward to wrap a bandage around his upper body. Control at all times, Celebrimbor thinks to himself desperately, yet the feel of Annatar’s burning skin under his fingertips and the whiff of smoke and coal emanating from his hair are hard to ignore. Fingers trembling, Celebrimbor finally manages to knot the bandages together and takes a hasty step backwards. Annatar gazes at him intently.  
“I have to thank you.”, he says silently. “And I do apologize for my behaviour. I thought … Never mind what I thought.”  
“No offense taken.”, Celebrimbor responds calmly and with a guarded smile. “You have simply been overwhelmed. Which is why you should rest.” Do not give me that crooked smile of yours, he pleads silently. It might prove to be my undoing. Annatar simply nods.  
“I am sorry for taking up your bed.”, he whispers sleepily, eyes falling shut.  
“You are more in need of it as I am.”, Celebrimbor answers quietly, although Annatar is already far away, chest rising and falling steadily.

He slumps into his armchair, turned towards the panorama window. He cannot even remember the last time he had been so frightfully close to acting outside his control. His eyes gaze into the starry sky and fix on the gleam of Earendil, a good reminder why a descendant of Feanor can never afford not being in charge of himself.

Nevertheless, his mind keeps supplying him with the image of Annatar’s expectant gaze, his half-shut eyes, his upper body uncovered and gleaming with sweat in the flickering light of the forges. Dangerous territory. “You act like a colt who has never had an admirer before.”, he chides himself under his breath.

He _knows_ that he is good-looking to say the least, he _knows_ that he can be charming if he wishes to be and he _knows_ how to use it to his advantage. Curufinwe has not been his father for nothing. Celebrimbor has received his fair share of attention and he has taken a good many lovers to his bed before losing interest in the matter. A fact that is partially due to the demands placed on his time by his work, after all excellence does not come for naught, and partially because few could ever compare to her silver-golden brilliance. Lost in thought, Celebrimbor cannot help but notice that the tresses of hair, that his mind conjures up for him, shimmer more golden than they used to. Gladly, he has plenty experience in keeping desire behind his eyes.

\--

Annatar sleeps late into the next morning and Celebrimbor finds himself reluctant to leave. You cannot let him wake up alone in a strange house, he tells himself and wishes that would be the real reason. This was only going to make matters complicated. He feels the slight discomfort of being watched tingle through his body and catches Annatar’s glance as he lifts his head from the pages of his book.

“You are still here.”, Annatar smiles brightly and pulls a face as he seats himself upright, putting a hand to his side-body. “I cannot thank you enough for helping me. Though I am sure, I could have managed on my own.”  
“I am glad to see your self-confidence returned.”, Celebrimbor mocks and rolls his eyes. He walks over to the bed, taking a closer look at the cut on Annatar’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”  
“Awkward.”, Annatar answers plainly, his head cocked to one side. “I am not used to being refused.” So much for forgetting anything had happened.  
“Happens to the best of us.”, Celebrimbor retorts, his voice just a trace coarser than usual, desire curling up again in his stomach. Annatar smiles crookedly.  
“So you say, but we both know that that is not quite true now, don’t we?” This time, Annatar doesn’t wait, doesn’t _ask_ but simply claims what he wants with such certainty as if it were his already.

He tugs Celebrimbor’s head forward with surprising strength and catches his lips in a fierce and demanding kiss. Put an end to this madness right now, the reasonable part of Celebrimbor’s mind whispers; instead he finds himself leaning forward, pressing his hands left and right of Annatar’s head and allows himself to indulge, driven wild by the feel of Annatar’s teeth against his lips, Annatar’s tongue darting out, Annatar’s moans in his mouth. As he straddles Annatar’s hips, he feels rough hands pulling on his shirt none too gently, the brush of calloused fingers against his chest and then hears a sudden cry of pain as he places fiery kisses alongside Annatar’s neck.

“My ribs.”, Annatar sighs in annoyance as they break apart, breath flying, fingers trembling. Celebrimbor cannot suppress a burst of laughter as Annatar presses his hands to his side with an obvious air of irritation. “Not only do they mar me, now they are going on ruining all the fun.” Celebrimbor brushes aside the bandages and studies the bruises before smiling at Annatar deviously.  
“You are not marred, quite the contrary. Blue suits you; it goes very well with your eyes.” Annatar pulls a grimace at him, then hisses slightly as Celebrimbor traces the line of his firm abdominal muscles with his lips.  
“And who says the fun has to be ruined?” You can still stop this, a distant part of his mind cries, as Celebrimbor skilfully unlaces Annatar’s breeches, all the while knowing that he won’t turn back, that the sighs and moans he draws from Annatar’s lips are far too intoxicating.  
“Not quite what I had in mind…”, Annatar whispers huskily as his head drops to the pillow, one hand tangled up in Celebrimbor’s heavy mane, grinding upward eagerly.  
“Just give me a word and I will stop.”  
“Why, never.”, Annatar responds, biting down on his lips. “I shall let you be my master in this for now. And …”  
Annatar’s eloquence falls to pieces as Celebrimbor chuckles and takes him deep in his mouth.

Cursing under his breath, Celebrimbor scrambles to find his shirt and breeches, carelessly strewn among Annatar’s robes and the bloodstained cloth around the bed. Annatar stretches out luxuriantly on the covers, eyes half-closed and licking his lips smug as a cat.

“Do I have to remind you that we are already late for the meeting?”  
“And what an image that shall be.”, Annatar replies light-heartedly. “The lord of the Gwaith and his apprentice, all dishevelled and with bruises on their necks stumbling into the meeting chamber.” Celebrimbor rolls his eyes and glances around the room.  
“Meanwhile my servants will probably think that I tried to assassinate you during the night.” Raking his fingers through his long golden hair, Annatar sits up.  
“Keeping up the family traditions, eh?”  
“I ought to straighten you out for such impertinence.”, Celebrimbor retorts, eyes fixed hungrily on the golden flow of Annatar’s hair over his shoulders. Annatar simply laughs at him brightly and closes in disturbingly fast. “Must we really go? I feel that I owe you.” His breath falls warmly on Celebrimbor’s cheek and he feels his body reacting accordingly.  
“What a considerate apprentice I have.”, he snickers, catching Annatar’s hand before he can palm through his breeches. “But I will have to decline for now.” For now?!, his reason cries out incredulously.  
“For now?”, Annatar asks with a thrill of anticipation and steals a kiss from Celebrimbor’s lips, before elegantly stepping into his robes.

\--

It is an interesting image indeed as Celebrimbor strides into the meeting chamber in high-collared silver-grey robes and a look on his face that clearly forbids any questions as to the reason of his delay.  
“We have only just begun, milord.”, Maenas greets him politely and quickly vacates the chair at the head of the table.

The door opens again, and all the heads turn. Annatar whirrs in, hair falling messily over his shoulders, cheeks flushed.  
“I am terribly sorry.”, he mumbles head over heels. “I woke up late and got distracted and …” Celebrimbor coughs and lifts his hand commandingly.  
“It is quite alright. Seat yourself.”  
“As to the nature of my distraction, I …”  
“Spare me.”, Celebrimbor cuts him short, shooting over a warning glance. “Now. Where were we?”  
“Tano was reporting on the increase of shipments from Khazad-dûm, milord.”, Maenas replies dutifully. “He suggests expanding the trading route to facilitate transport.”  
“I am listening.”

As Tano makes his report, Celebrimbor’s eyes wander over to Annatar who seems perfectly composed, eyes fixed attentively on the speaker, scribbling something on his parchment every now and then. Only when he meets Celebrimbor’s eyes, smiles ever so slightly and twists a long strand of hair around his elegant fingers, Celebrimbor finds that he is not the only one whose thoughts are wandering. He shifts in his seat, cursing wordlessly as he feels his arousal push against the fabric of his breeches.

“…we could relieve the pressure.”, he hears Annatar finishing his speech. Celebrimbor shrugs.  
“What was that?” A crooked smile plays over Annatar’s lips.  
“I said that if we were to construct another gate and redirected some of the traffic, we could relieve the pressure. From the main gate.”  
“Obviously.”, Celebrimbor snaps haughtily, finger tapping on the table top.  
“Milord, in order to build a new gate, we would have to gain permission from the Lord and Lady.”, Maenas interjects. “Especially Lord Celeborn doesn’t seem all too keen on expanding the trade with the Nogothrim.”  
“Let that be my concern.”, Celebrimbor replies crisply.  
“Definitely.”, Annatar agrees. “I am certain, you will convince him in no time, as skilled with your tongue as you are.”  
“There is no room for flattery in a business meeting.”, Celebrimbor reprimands Annatar sharply, all the while sliding his chair closer towards the table.  
“He’s right, milord.”, Maenas says carefully. “If anyone is going to convince him, it will be you.”  
“I thank you, but we have sung the song of my praise quite enough. Shall we turn to more pressing matters at hand?” Annatar bites back a snort of laughter and Celebrimbor cocks an eyebrow in his general direction.  
“Do you have something to say for yourself?”  
“Plenty of things. I do believe, it is Maenas’ turn though.”

As Maenas begins to talk, Celebrimbor just gently shakes his head at Annatar who blinks at him cheekily in return, making his chair very uncomfortable indeed. Therefore, Celebrimbor is in quite a state when he finally closes the meeting, thanking the heavens for his heavy robes, keeping the worst concealed. Slowly, the other smiths clear the room as Celebrimbor casually makes his way over to Annatar.

“You will pay for this.”, he mutters when the door is eventually shut and only the two of them are left. “How dare you …?”  
“Admit it. You enjoyed yourself at least as much as I did.” Celebrimbor clenches his fist around Annatar’s robe and pulls him into a ferocious kiss.  
“You had me frustrated before the meeting already and then you _tease_ …” Annatar slides his hands under Celebrimbor’s robes.  
“I offered you release but you insisted on rushing off. What was I to do?”

Celebrimbor groans loudly as he feels Annatar’s hand running over his chest and then on the waistband of his breeches.  
“Careful, milord, else we might be overheard.” Roughly, Celebrimbor spins Annatar around, pressing him against the conference table while dragging off these perfectly smart robes with a satisfied smile.  
“They know to knock.”, he informs Annatar casually while grazing his teeth along his neck and sinking his hands into his hair, destroying the hairstyle with relish.  
“In this case…”, Annatar murmurs and lets out a loud sigh, his head dropping backwards to expose his throat, and pulls Celebrimbor between his legs and onto the table top.  
“Shameless.”, Celebrimbor grins, allowing him to unlace his breeches with flying fingers.  
“I’ve never been a great believer in concealing desire.”, Annatar admits freely, his fingernails digging into Celebrimbor’s hips. “I’ve always claimed what I wanted. And you…” He wraps his fingers around Celebrimbor’s arousal, “…I have craved ever since I’ve lied eyes on you.” Celebrimbor silences him with a harsh kiss.  
“You talk too much.”, he whispers coarsely, trying to withstand the urge to thrust into Annatar’s hand all too eagerly. Annatar lets out a hiss and answers the kiss ferociously, drawing blood from Celebrimbor’s lower lip and urging him ever closer. Suddenly, Celebrimbor withdraws.  
“Damn you!”, Annatar curses wildly. “What is it now?”  
“You didn’t think about bringing oil with you, did you?”, Celebrimbor asks with a smirk at Annatar’s impatience. He is grabbed by his shoulders and insistently pulled back in.  
“Whatever…”, Annatar rasps, nibbling at Celebrimbor’s earlobe and grinding against his thigh. Celebrimbor shoves him firmly away, holding his shoulders with both hands.  
“I will not take you dry. Even leaving aside the fact that you are still injured, …”  
“I am not made of glass.”, Annatar interrupts him sharply and brushes aside some loose strands of hair.  
"I never said that.”, Celebrimbor answers with a smile and lets his fingertips run gently over Annatar’s collarbone. “But you are quite young and I’d rather not take risks. I need my apprentice fully functional for the days to come.” Annatar crosses his arms in exasperation.  
“How much longer are you going to make us wait then?”

\--

His cook looks up in surprise as Celebrimbor rushes into the kitchen with a commanding impression on his face. Hastily, she bows her head to him.

“Sire. How can I help you?” Celebrimbor scans the shelves and cupboards of the bright room, noticing that he doesn’t have a clue where anything is stored around here.  
“I need some oil.”, he orders aloofly as if it were a perfectly normal thing to ask. The cook cocks her head but in slightest.  
“What kind of oil, sire?” Celebrimbor tabs his fingers on the kitchen counter, taken aback. How was he supposed to know? As a former member of the royal family, he had always been able to leave the practical arrangements to the other party involved.  
“Any kind of oil.”, he snaps. “Nothing too odorous.” She rushes over too a large carven cupboard filled with flasks of different size and colourings.  
“Well, sire. I can offer you olive oil which will go excellently with the fresh bread I prepared for you this morning. There’s also different nut oils that could complement the taste of a salad, if you like or seed oils if you prefer a finer note ...” She shrugs her shoulders, turning her head back to him questioningly.

He forces himself to take a deep breath. Why did she have to make such a fuss? What kind of oil, seriously?  
“Hand me the … almond oil.”, he finally commands waving his hand imperiously and she bites her lip while taking out a small phial.  
“But sire, I am not certain whether the sweet quality will go well with …” She shuts her mouth quickly as she catches Celebrimbor’s warning face expression and timidly hands him over the oil.  
“Thank you.”, Celebrimbor replies cynically, before leaving the kitchen at last.

Outside in the corridor, Annatar is dying from suppressed laughter, holding himself upright with one hand against the wall. When he sees Celebrimbor emerging from the kitchen, he immediately straightens his back and lifts his hand majestically.  
“_Fetch me the almond oil_.”, he intonates gravely, before he is shaken by another burst of laughter, tears in his eyes.  
“Very funny.”, Celebrimbor retorts sourly and drags his shaking apprentice along the corridor and up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Finally.”, Annatar sighs, shedding his robes carelessly on the floor, and places himself on the bed, head propped up on one arm and a devious smile on his lips as he recognizes Celebrimbor’s hungry gaze.  
“It seems I am the only one after all who has been craving this for a long time.”

He lets his hand run over his neck and collarbone to the sculpted muscles of his chest and abdomen and Celebrimbor’s eyes follow along, attentive like a hawk locked on its prey. He strides over to the bed in two long steps as Annatar’s fingers continue lower and lower, his gaze never leaving Celebrimbor’s face, his bright smile never leaving his lips. Annatar’s open display of self-confidence is both exciting and infuriating at once, complemented by his candid moans.

“Shameless.”, Celebrimbor repeats, shaking his head mockingly as he straddles Annatar’s hips and clutches his wrists, fixing them atop of the golden flow of hair around his head.  
“I can be coy as an Elf maiden if you like.” Annatar looks at him through cast down eye lashes and Celebrimbor snorts.  
“I’ve never been one to go for the bashful lovers.” His lips come down on Annatar’s savagely and Annatar answers in kind, biting his lower lip, fighting to free his writs and grinding hip against hip demandingly.

Celebrimbor curses under his breath and releases Annatar’s hands in order to finally strip off his breeches. Not a second later the sound of tearing cloth resonates.  
“That was my best tunic.”, he comments dryly while making short work of his breeches and trying not to get too distracted by Annatar’s hands running over his chest, nails raking over his back.  
“How unfortunate.” Annatar laughs cheekily, before suddenly pulling Celebrimbor down by his neck and spinning him around with surprising strength.

Seated atop of his master’s lap, he licks his lips with a satisfied smile. Ere Celebrimbor can even consider the notion of protest, Annatar’s cunning hands around his length deny any such thoughts.  
“I may be patient.”, Annatar growls quietly. “But I do have my limits.” Placing fiery kisses all over Celebrimbor’s chest and neck, he reaches over to the night stand where the neglected oil had been placed.  
“Damn you.”, Celebrimbor curses coarsely as Annatar takes a good long while to slick him up, circling his fingers time and again around the tip. “This is not how this was supposed to play out.”  
“Is the great lord not used to surrendering to the mercies of a lowly apprentice?”, Annatar requests innocently, all the while making Celebrimbor’s hips buck in anticipation. Compose yourself, Celebrimbor’s reason demands persistently. Control at all times.  
“I am not surrendering.”, he manages with an air of arduous restraint. Annatar smiles brightly and sinks down on him with such suddenness that he draws so loud a moan from Celebrimbor’s lips that it ought to be audible outside the bed chamber. Annatar’s heat and sudden proximity threaten to overwhelm him, yet a tingle of worry persists through the haze.  
“You ought to take care...”, he murmurs as Annatar begins rocking his hips. Annatar laughs and shakes his head, sending a flow of golden hair over his shoulders.  
“If you are going to concern yourself any further about my health, I will kill you for it.” Celebrimbor buries his hand in Annatar’s mane and pulls him into a long kiss, arching his hips to meet Annatar’s thrusts.

The feeling of hot skin all over, the scent of fire and coal emanating from his hair and Annatar’s unrestrained moans, not even silenced by rough kisses push any concerns far from his mind. More, he pleads silently, harder, deeper and Annatar answers to each wordless demand with such certainty and joy as if Celebrimbor had placed them directly. It is the attentive gaze of bright blue eyes and Annatar’s light and careless laugh that finally send him over the edge, shuttering and panting for breath.

“Beautiful.”, Annatar comments with a smug smile that is quite erased once Celebrimbor wraps his hand around his arousal. “Finally.”, he mutters, eyes falling shut and Celebrimbor has to bite down on his lip at the sensation of Annatar’s hips thrusting to meet his strokes, growing hard again within him. Annatar clutches Celebrimbor’s biceps as he comes, leaving white marks against the brown skin, before rolling over to his side, grinning at Celebrimbor’s slight sigh at the loss of sensation.

Celebrimbor lets his eyes wander over his lover’s body admiringly, taking in the red marks of scratches and bruises and the darker shade of gold of tresses drenched in sweat ere swiftly stepping out of bed and gathering together his clothes.  
“You should leave.”, he informs Annatar crisply, scolding himself for his harshness but a moment later.  
“Of course.”, Annatar replies composedly. “Shall we pretend that nothing happened then?” Celebrimbor freezes in mid-movement and turns his head to meet his questioning gaze.  
“I never said that. But the fact remains, you are my apprentice and certain activities will be condemned as inappropriate to say the least.” Annatar smiles while stepping into his robes.  
“If you accepted me as a smith, we could avoid that problem altogether.” Celebrimbor studies him thoughtfully. It is true that he hasn’t been treating Annatar as an assistant in everything but name for a long time now. His capabilities easily exceeded those of many of his peers at the Gwaith.  
“Even if I were to do that…”, he continues while buttoning his robe, “…such an affair would not be well accepted.” Annatar snickers.  
“Don’t act as if other members of the Gwaith have never stepped out of line.”  
“At least the senior members should act as a role model for …”  
“Tano and Maenas have been making out for years.” Celebrimbor spins around.  
“_What?_” Annatar bursts into laughter.  
“Literally everybody knows that. Inside the Gwaith and out.”  
“I don’t believe it.”, Celebrimbor curses to himself. Prim Tano, with _Maenas_ of all?  
“After I have walked in on them once, they were kind enough to relocate their enjoyment of each other’s company to the lesser used meeting rooms.” Annatar steps in closer and catches Celebrimbor’s lips. “Therefore, I will not listen to any further objections of this kind. Unless you don’t want to …”  
“Repeat our _enjoyment of each other’s company_?”, Celebrimbor interrupts him cynically. “I will have to give it some thought.” Whom was he trying to fool? Annatar beams confidently, the same thought crossing his mind.  
“See you in the forges then.”, he replies with a snicker and whooshes out of the room, leaving Celebrimbor behind. 


End file.
